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Tuesday
Jan172012
Time Is Pretty Cool When It Isn't Forcing You to Exist Continuously Through Another Terrible January
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
This is my middle-of-the-night stream-of-consciousness post that I am not going to allow myself to delete later. It's a good exercise. It loosens up the blogging fingers and let's me freak out a little about something not related to my imminent death.
This is me in the tub with my kitty, Oskar, who is ridiculous and likes to be
extremely close to, but not actually in, hot water.
My death is not actually imminent, but it's January right now, and January is when I am pretty sure that my death is imminent anyway. I am sure that I will get cancer again and that my mid-winter weight gain is a symptom of a thyroid condition related to that imaginary cancer, and then I watch a documentary about breast cancer and pink-washing, and I end up walking around the apartment feeling myself up repeatedly and wondering if that spot I keep poking is going to be the cause of my imminent demise or if I should just cut back on my caffeine intake.
I like the way caffeine is spelled. I always say it caff-ay-inn-ay as I type it out.
That's when the visual migraine thing I sometimes get kicks in, and the whole world starts to sparkle in blinding patches like it's all turning into a disco ball, and I worry that it's actually a sign of a brain tumour or probably a stroke, because the visual migraine is usually accompanied by some facial numbness, and I realize that I haven't showered in a day-and-a-half, and, if I am going to end up in an emergency room with a stroke, I want to look and smell better while I do it, so I get into the shower and don't realize until half way through that I am possibly the dumbest person having a stroke ever, so I get out of the shower and drip all over the floor so that I can inspect my face for asymmetrical drooping, and, being that there isn't any, I decide that I'm not having a stroke and finish my shower, after which I take some Benadryl and have a long, therapeutic nap.
This is what crap I looked like before that shower.
The good news is that I'm not dying! The bad news is that I could be, but so could we all. Oh, January. I cannot quit you, at least as long as time keeps functioning the way it does.
Yesterday afternoon, during one of my therapeutic naps, I had this terribly involved dream about smoking pot, those outdoor hamburger figurines from 1970s McDonalds, baby tigers, and the nature of time. It was fantastic. In my dream, time only seemed to function in a linear fashion for those who didn't understand it, but, once you began to understand the true nature of time, it would function more in accordance with its true nature in loops and pockets and waves, and it all resulted in me getting really stoned by accident after having been mislead by a plastic, anthropomorphic garden hamburger in Alabama, and I ended up cuddling baby tigers soaked in orange juice with my aunt, who, not understanding the true nature of time, disapproved of the fact that they were being kept in giant hamster exercise balls. Poor baby tigers. They were sticky.
Time is pretty cool when it isn't forcing you to exist continuously through another terrible January filled with death anxiety.
Somehow, this is all making me think of Edenland. Hello, Edenland! I hope you are having a fine evening, or morning, or whatever time of day you are having over there in Australia.
The End.
This is me in the tub with my kitty, Oskar, who is ridiculous and likes to be
extremely close to, but not actually in, hot water.
My death is not actually imminent, but it's January right now, and January is when I am pretty sure that my death is imminent anyway. I am sure that I will get cancer again and that my mid-winter weight gain is a symptom of a thyroid condition related to that imaginary cancer, and then I watch a documentary about breast cancer and pink-washing, and I end up walking around the apartment feeling myself up repeatedly and wondering if that spot I keep poking is going to be the cause of my imminent demise or if I should just cut back on my caffeine intake.
I like the way caffeine is spelled. I always say it caff-ay-inn-ay as I type it out.
That's when the visual migraine thing I sometimes get kicks in, and the whole world starts to sparkle in blinding patches like it's all turning into a disco ball, and I worry that it's actually a sign of a brain tumour or probably a stroke, because the visual migraine is usually accompanied by some facial numbness, and I realize that I haven't showered in a day-and-a-half, and, if I am going to end up in an emergency room with a stroke, I want to look and smell better while I do it, so I get into the shower and don't realize until half way through that I am possibly the dumbest person having a stroke ever, so I get out of the shower and drip all over the floor so that I can inspect my face for asymmetrical drooping, and, being that there isn't any, I decide that I'm not having a stroke and finish my shower, after which I take some Benadryl and have a long, therapeutic nap.
This is what crap I looked like before that shower.
The good news is that I'm not dying! The bad news is that I could be, but so could we all. Oh, January. I cannot quit you, at least as long as time keeps functioning the way it does.
Yesterday afternoon, during one of my therapeutic naps, I had this terribly involved dream about smoking pot, those outdoor hamburger figurines from 1970s McDonalds, baby tigers, and the nature of time. It was fantastic. In my dream, time only seemed to function in a linear fashion for those who didn't understand it, but, once you began to understand the true nature of time, it would function more in accordance with its true nature in loops and pockets and waves, and it all resulted in me getting really stoned by accident after having been mislead by a plastic, anthropomorphic garden hamburger in Alabama, and I ended up cuddling baby tigers soaked in orange juice with my aunt, who, not understanding the true nature of time, disapproved of the fact that they were being kept in giant hamster exercise balls. Poor baby tigers. They were sticky.
Time is pretty cool when it isn't forcing you to exist continuously through another terrible January filled with death anxiety.
Somehow, this is all making me think of Edenland. Hello, Edenland! I hope you are having a fine evening, or morning, or whatever time of day you are having over there in Australia.
The End.
Reader Comments (13)
I've been thinking about death alot lately. I never really thought of this as a January thing but now that you mention it...
Basically, my thoughts are: Aaaah! I have to die!
Do I really have to die?
YES.
Damn, that sucks.
Shower, rinse, repeat.
I recommend watching movies--lots and lots of movies from your youth. For me that, would be Blade Runner, Lawrence of Arabia, Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast....Etc. Try it, it can't hurt.
I turned 54 my last birthday and thoughts like "over half my my life is over" creep in more frequently. Mail from the AARP doesn't help! Some days I can say things like, "I won't care, I'll be dead!" but others, it makes me very sad to know that life will go on without me. And one day there won't be anyone left alive who knew me.
This is way too profound on a tuesday morning.
January is truly the worst month of the year for me. You'd think Seasonal Affective Disorder would peak during the shortest days of the year, but for me it's always been January. If I'm ever going to be depressed, be obsessed with death, or hating my job, it will be in January. Hang in there, spring will come and it will all seem better again. Oh, and I take Prozac. That definitely makes a difference.
This is my birthday month. It should be awesome. But January 2012 sucks big donkey penis. Here's to a better February!
Ca-fay-yeen-ay! It's a major award!
... also my SAD always happens in the spring. Everything's blossoming, greening, warming up, mating, whatever; and I'm depressed as hell. Go figure.
I spent most of last week thinking about my death. Pneumonia tends to do that. January is my birthday month but so far it's been rather suck-tastic. I've decided to move my birthday to February this year.
January has been nothing but bad in my world too. Sick husband + bad news about my grandmother's health = depressed, scared & stressed out me. The thought of death is always looming in the back of my mind. Really hoping February and beyond brings some better times for all.
boy do i get this
And, now, I feel like I just sat with a friend.
But, here's the thing: I have gotten to know you so much through this post, and you don't know me since I don't/haven't done stream of consciousness, so what happens when I see you (or anyone who does SOC) and I feel like I know your thoughts at 1 a.m. *um...b/c I know do* and say HI!!!! with ten exclamation marks, feeling I just sat and had a tete a tete over tea with you for the past year...and ...well...you get where I"m going?
Me? all grins..and you and other SOC bloggers...going "ahh. and whaaa?"
dang..that would be "because I now do."
besos, linda.
I love this post, I love you, and I love that you mentioned me at the end. It seemed entirely fitting.
Your DREAMS, man! So so graphic and intricate and abstract. You dream like Picasso.
It's warm down here, like, summer. Hot and sweaty and fucking beautiful. I'm already sad about it being over, because I've always got to be sad about something.
Love to the Schmutz XXXXXXX
I've been joking and commenting about death a lot lately because I'm having major surgery soon, and it's freaking me out so I deal with it by joking around which really freaks out the people around me. I even made my best friend promise that if I died she'd go to my favorite sandwich shop and get me a sandwich to take into the afterlife like the Pharaohs because those guys were smart about planning ahead and packing for their next life. I thought it was hysterical but she wasn't nearly as amused.
I love stream of consciousness.
Whoa. Love your freedom/ that you didn't delete this/ your faith in life and in writing. It's great to get a peek inside someone else's world and not feel so alone. Thank you.